


got those lipstick stains on your teeth

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: Daydreams [7]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Clubbing, Cryptozoology, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Monsters, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 03:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13309146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: AU. “You think I’m pretty?” Jack tilts his head away, but doesn’t pull away. He brushes his hand over Dark’s shoulder, resting his fingers there. “Thank you. I think you’re pretty, too.”





	got those lipstick stains on your teeth

**Author's Note:**

> [kickflips in] yo, it's me, yo girl gg and she's not dead 
> 
> Hi, hi! College has literally been eating and consuming my life so it's been super hard to write! I work two jobs at my campus and I'm trying to do that healthy ~social~ thing so often times it's difficult for me to really sit down and focus in between everything! I finally beat my own ass and decided to put this out as a Christmas present originally--but now it's just a positive start to the new year (despite me being about 8 days late).
> 
> But anyway--wanted to do a little piece for you guys as a warmup for some larger projects I intend on working through this year. It'll probably take some time to get out and it'll take some time to plan accordingly--but I really hope I'll be able to finish these things because I'm really excited to share them with you all! Thank you guys so much for being patient with me (and I'm SO sorry about the TMD epilogue being delayed--it'll come soon, I promise!) I'm overwhelmingly grateful that you guys are as awesome and amazing as you are, so thank you for bearing with me! 
> 
> That said, I'll try not to ramble too much anymore. This piece turned out to have a larger verse than I was expecting--but it'll be on the backburner for now, if I ever do more. Sorry if this piece is super choppy or un-sexy or garbo--when I said this was a warmup I totally meant it--been out of practice for a while! Hopefully it's not too bad and is decent enough to keep you guys excited for what is yet to come :) 
> 
> Onto the story. Enjoy!

“You stare at that boy any harder and he’s gonna burst into flames,” Ethan murmurs. 

Dark bares his teeth at him. The young pixie laughs, a mixture of twinkles and bells and mischief. “I’m just saying. Seriously. If you like him, go talk to him.”

“He’s wearing _makeup_ ,” Dark drawls out. “It’s strange.”

Ethan gives him a look up and down for a moment, before gesturing. “Let’s see…eyeliner, check. Nail polish…check.” 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he cuts him off. “Can’t you be annoying somewhere else with someone else?” 

“You’d think in this day and age boys can wear makeup and it’s not weird,” Ethan sings, ignoring the question. His voice is soft amongst the roar of the night club. “Because it’s not. You’re wearing makeup. It’s not weird. I’ve got a little on, it’s not weird, though I’m a pixie and it comes with the package. Besides—he’s wearing a little lipstick. Can you blame the guy? Makes his lips pop. Bet you want to kiss him.” 

“You keep talking and I’m going to rip those dainty wings off you,” Dark sneers at him. “It’s not _wrong_ that he’s wearing makeup. It’s just that he doesn’t look the sort.”

Ethan lets out a soft, low whistle. “You don’t, either, to be fair. Although, I guess you do strike me as the _edgy emo vampire_ , even if you’re not a vampire.” 

Dark cuts him another look. Ethan’s smile remains. “So what, boy’s got a little lipstick. Maybe it’s a species thing. What do you think he is, a pixie like me? A siren? A faun?”

“None of those,” he says, ignoring the pixie’s watchful gaze on him. “He’s too…something for that.”

“Then why don’t you go and ask him?” his voice raises an octave, and it’s moments like these that yes, he remembers Ethan is undoubtedly a master of mischief. His hazel eyes flicker from bright to a deep, inky shade of black, before returning to their normal shade. “He’s staring at you, too.” 

Dark rolls his eyes. “A pest,” he drawls. “Pests, that’s all you pixies are.” 

Ethan’s tinkling laughter dies into the crowd as he maneuvers his way into the bustle of people, presumably off somewhere to harass some other poor, unsuspecting soul. Dark combs his fingers through his neat hair, avoiding the gaze of anyone who happens to skirt their eyes across him. 

He thinks of ordering another shot of alcohol, something stronger than the whiskey he’d downed earlier. Something elven or dwarvish—something that’ll make him bitterly and blissfully unaware of anyone and anything around him. When he comes to clubs, he rarely wants to be cognizant. The vague withdrawal of nicotine hits him a few moments later, and while he wants to light up a cigarette here, it’s not happening. Smoking is the only thing prohibited and actively enforced in this place, and Dark isn’t in the mood to argue or wrestle with the authority. 

Before he can make a call on either of those things, he feels a tug—and slowly, Dark raises his eyes to see sharp blue yet again. The boy with the lipstick curls his lips into a sly smile, his teeth barely showing, almost inviting him over with his look alone. He’s got a shocking mess of green hair atop his head, practically neon in the light. His skin has an ethereal glow, and Dark takes back his earlier assumption that he may be a siren. He’s much too pretty for his own good, and Dark would be a liar if he said that he wasn’t a little interested. 

As if to add insult to injury of his wounded pride and insatiable lust for strangers, the boy with the lipstick gives him a wink, before lifting a pale hand, crooking his pointer finger at him. Dark knows it’s no magic, but goddamn it feels like it in the heat of the room, full of warm bodies that aren’t all human. _He’s_ not human, and he knows damn well that the boy with the lipstick can’t be either. 

Against his wishes, or perhaps with them, Dark heaves his shoulders, letting out a huge sigh as he smoothes down his dress shirt, realizing that his tie had vanished into the void. He wonders when Ethan had nabbed it from him. He makes his way into the crowd, bumping people out of his way, and Lipstick Boy’s eyes never leave him. 

“Hi,” Lipstick Boy breathes when Dark’s in earshot, his voice surprisingly soft in comparison to the music. “Saw you staring.”

“Did you?” Dark murmurs, returning the smile with ease. “Perhaps I was looking past you.” 

“Call it a hunch,” he grins, and he reveals a mouth of pretty teeth, slightly crooked. “You came over, didn’t you?” 

His breath smells of cinnamon whiskey, but not overwhelmingly strong. He’s not drunk, even if his cheeks are a little redder in the light. He wonders what other parts of him are red. He can’t see a discernible glamor, but to be fair, Dark’s had a couple of shots and his perception isn’t as strong as he’d like. 

Holding out a hand, Dark gives him one of most charming smirks, because if the Lipstick Boy is trying to flirt, he wants to do it better. Lipstick Boy’s hands are warm, slightly clammy in the hot room, but Dark brings it up to his lips anyway, kissing the knuckles gently. “Call me Dark.”

His cheeks are only by a fraction lighter than his lipstick. He maintains his cool façade, though, locking eyes with him. The startling blue doesn’t waver at all. “Jack. Or Sean. Take your pick.” 

“Jack,” Dark tests the name out on his tongue, finding he likes the taste of it. It’s just heavy enough in his mouth to mean something. “Pleasure to meet you, Jack.” 

“Likewise,” Jack tilts his head, as though scrutinizing his features. He finally pulls his hand away, but makes no effort to remove himself from Dark’s personal space. “So, you gonna buy me a drink?” 

And damn if that doesn’t get him. Dark lets out a low laugh, wrapping his fingers around his lithe wrist. He pulls him out of the hustle of people towards the bar counter, flagging down the eyes—the many eyes, for a moment—of the eldritch bartender. 

“I’ll have whatever he’s having,” Dark tells him, gesturing to Jack. He gives a pointed look to his companion. “Order away.”

Jack smiles, before rattling off a drink so fast Dark doesn’t catch it. The bartender, Kyle, goes quick to work though, grabbing a series of drinks to mix together into a cocktail, presumably.

What returns to them is a dark concoction of ice and liquid, with an orange tint. Jack raises the glass, holding it up while indicating Dark to do the same. He’s never seen a drink like this before, but deciding to take a gamble, he clinks glasses with him before swallowing it down. 

Sharp and tangy, Dark blinks slowly as Jack laughs, setting his drink back down on the counter. “Stars, you’re cute.” 

“I prefer the term devilishly handsome,” Dark drawls, ignoring the sour aftertaste of whatever hell creation he’d ordered. It doesn’t taste awful, but it’s definitely not something he would—or could—order again. 

“I take it you’ve never had a Pixie Pollen before?” Jack asks, swirling the offending drink with a perfectly shit-eating grin. “That’s alright. Most people haven’t. ‘M a bit of a weird one, liking it. A lot too sour for most. Little too gritty for others.”

“I get to deal with a pixie enough on my own time,” Dark says, and to spite him, takes another swig of it. He feels the heat of it all the way down his throat. “I don’t need a drink to backtalk me, too.”

Jack snickers. “Ah, right. Little thing, right? About my size, blue hair?”

“I’d rather not talk about Ethan,” he hums, watching the glimmer in Jack’s eyes, “and talk about you, instead.” 

“I’m an open book,” Jack says breezily. “Ask me anything.” 

Dark notices the way Jack holds himself, open and inviting, and so he doesn’t hesitate to step closer, their knees brushing. He braces a hand on the counter, daring to raise a hand up. Jack’s eyes never leave his as he tilts his chin up, watching them glisten. “We can start with why a pretty thing like you is in a place like this.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Jack tilts his head away, but doesn’t pull away. He brushes his hand over Dark’s shoulder, resting his fingers there. “Thank you. I think you’re pretty, too.” 

“Again, I prefer the term handsome,” he mumbles. “Perhaps it’s a handsome glamor.”

“I don’t think so,” Jack winks. He taps his nose. “I’ve got a scent for that sort of thing. No glamor. Just you. A hint of a shell. A shapeshifter.”

Dark returns the comment with a small curl of his lip. He’s not wrong, really. His shell breaks when he’s angry, upset, or daring—sometimes when he’s pleased. Many names circle the globe for his kind—the boogeymen, the monster residing under the bed, in the closet. These days, people refer to him as a bugbear, and it’s usually the easiest one to spit out. 

“Clever,” Dark breathes, and Jack’s hand trails down to grip at his bicep. “Wondering what you are. Perhaps a siren. You’ve got the eyes for it.” 

The red trails down Jack’s face, the confidence he exuberates overshadowed by the blush. Dark’s words are getting to him, digging under his skin, and there’s a tremble in his bones. He’s excited. He holds himself together miraculously well for someone clearly interested, and Dark is honestly impressed with his resolve. 

Taking a risk, Dark reaches forward, wrapping an arm around his waist. He pulls their bodies a little closer together, testing it, and Jack doesn’t pull away. His skin burns, but in the best kind of way, their noses nearly brushing. 

“Not a siren,” Jack’s voice comes out in a puff of air, almost unintelligible. “Don’t have the voice for it. I use it for…other things.” 

“A witch, then,” Dark leans forward a bit, drawing out the last syllable. “Perhaps you’ve placed a wordless incantation on me.” 

Jack bats his eyes, as though appearing to look innocent. He wraps his finger around Dark’s collar, anchoring him there, parting his lips in just the right way. “I don’t need an incantation to get your attention.”

He doesn’t speak, then, finding his words to be trapped in his throat. It’s not a lie by any stretch of the word—with his presence alone, this boy has enraptured him, and Dark is only ever eager to learn more about what bubbles beneath his pretty skin. 

“You wanna come with me?” Jack asks, like it’s even a question, like at this point, Dark will ever consider saying no. “Someplace a little more…private?”

No verbal response is given, but one isn’t necessary as Dark makes no effort to stop him as Jack pulls him by the wrist, abandoning the hell concoctions on the counter—Kyle will put it on his tab, no sweat. 

Jack leads him away from the music, becoming a dull drone in the background as he’s ushered behind the scenes, behind the stage area where musicians come to play. He pulls him down the hall and opens a rather squeaky door, and if Dark had had a little less alcohol, he’d be marginally concerned with his safety. But he isn’t. 

The soft murmur of the music feels like a whisper, and Jack closes the door behind him. Once he does, he leans against it, and Dark counts three seconds before Jack’s laughing. 

“Stars, Dark, just kiss me,” he says, and Dark doesn’t need to be told twice in that regard. 

Jack’s arms are already pulling him in by the neck as Dark steps closer, boxing him against the door. He pins him there, anchoring his fingers at his waist, and brings their lips together. 

He’s kissed a good handful of people over the course of his life—some girls, some boys, some neither, some decidedly inhuman. Some have worn lipstick, some haven’t, but there’s something different about kissing Jack in lipstick. It’s waxy and bland like normal, but tinged with the bitterness of the Pixie Pollen, the sweetness of the whiskey before. Jack’s lips are soft in a way that boys’ lips shouldn’t be, slightly chapped, but stars above does he love the way it feels. 

Tilting his head, Jack’s mouth moves against his, parting his lips. Their tongues glide against each other, hot and messy, and he swallows the sharp gasp escaping Jack’s lips when he juts their hips together, the friction setting alight a spark, erupting into flames. 

Jack draws his leg up, hooking it around Dark’s waist. He smoothes his hand along his thigh, using his free hand to push up the thin material of Jack’s shirt, pressing his thumbs into his pale skin, dusted in a thin layer of hair. He finally breaks the kiss at their lips, mouthing along his jawline for a moment, before delving down his neck. 

“You’re incredible,” Jack laughs, his voice strained as his voice reaches a particular pitch upon Dark’s teeth grazing his collarbone. “Oh, stars. I think I’ll keep you.”

Dark presses a kiss to the hollow of his throat, raising his head to meet his eyes. Jack’s eyes glisten, starlight trapped inside, his lipstick smeared, sprinklings of it on his neck. Dark knows his mouth must have some color now, as well. 

For a moment, the blue eyes in Jack’s head twinkle in a way distinctly inhuman—not a glamor, not a trick of the light. For a moment, he seems something animal in them—something mischievous and secretive. 

“Will you, now?” Dark asks, and Jack’s hand reaches out, his thumb trailing along his lower lip. “Will you be taking me home, then?” 

“Mm,” Jack hums, stretching forward to kiss him again, shorter than the last. “I think so. I’ll even make breakfast in the morning.”

“You think I’ll stay that long?” another kiss to his neck, and he revels in the way that Jack shivers. “Perhaps I’ll be gone.”

It’s rare that Dark is there in the mornings after sleeping with someone. He comes to clubs to get drunk and fuck around, no strings attached—it wouldn’t be out of line to assume the same for Jack, despite how entrancing the young creature is.

Jack hooks a hand under his jaw, lifting his head up to meet his eyes again. There’s that secretive smile again, one full of whispers that Dark will be lucky if he hears. “You will be.” 

So definitive. So assured. Jack brings their lips together once more, lingering this time. 

Dark presses him harder against the wall. “Maybe if you’re good.” 

“I’m never good,” Jack promises, offering him a shit-eating little wink. “If I were, you wouldn’t have lipstick stains on your teeth, now would you?” 

Sure enough, the vague taste of wax catches up to him, and reflexively his tongue roams over his front teeth, presumably where the offending makeup lies. He shakes his head. 

“Might as well pick up where we left off, then,” Dark breathes, and Jack doesn’t hesitate to paint the rest of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Your endless support on all that I write will never cease to amaze me. Thank you all so much! I really love hearing from you guys always! Feel free to come chat with me over at voidskelly.tumblr.com!
> 
> Perhaps if I do another part we'll get to see what Jack is :)


End file.
